The Broken Soldier

Among my many factory defects, being without an edit/censorship program is probably my favorite. My wife thinks it’s funny. My friends find it endearing. Most of my ’superiors’ find it intolerable. I’m given to talking about what’s on my mind without much attention to code switching or what’s appropriate in a given setting. Not that I’m socially retarded or insensitive, just honest, as direct as I can be, and not given to changing personalities as a hatter changes hats. That’s about all the warning I’m going to give for this and any other post. I should probably get to it, as the stage-setting is in danger of taking longer than the play.

I don’t care for Eastman, but I thought the quote made an apt title. Good to share a bit of painful humor about an experience I had today. I was taking a shower today. (I do that regularly, and while after 8 months of inactivity and weight gain my naked body may be funny in a nut-kicking Steve-O vomiting schadenfreude sort of way, that’s not the funny part.) I’m a bit limited in range of motion these days. Limited by pain and limited by partial paralysis in my right leg. Showering is always a challenge. I thought about getting one of those handi-capable shower chairs, but I’m not quite ready to admit I need one. Not yet. Anyway, I was turning to the side and leaning back as far as I could to apply the soapy wash cloth to my backside. This movement made me have a muscle spasm that lasted for about 10 minutes. It went from the right side of my lower back to the left side of my lower back, up my back on both sides to my shoulder blades, and around to my abdomen. Wocka, wocka, wocka. I thought it was funny.